


Chrysalism

by badassontheblock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, And a weak harry, BAMF Draco Malfoy, Boys Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demon Summoning, Demons, Fashion sense, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, Incubus Draco Malfoy, Kittens, M/M, Sharing a Bed, featuring Draco’s extravagantly expensive clothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 19:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badassontheblock/pseuds/badassontheblock
Summary: n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.Harry’s been watching the world like this for far too long. At this point the demon eating his tuna salad at the kitchen table might be welcome.





	Chrysalism

**Author's Note:**

> Second Drarry fic to go on here, slow clapping it out for my lazy ass. I’ll keep adding on to this, and I’ve signed up for my first fest, so hopefully we’ll see that soon :) I hope you guys like it! I’m excited to see what an avalanche of tropes this will become.

The first time it happens is a complete accident. Seriously, Harry wasn’t even _trying_ to summon a demon. He just wanted a hellhound. A puppy, hopefully, if his runes were right. Considering the practically glowing icy sex god he got instead, he may have to re-evaluate those equations. Maybe he picked the wrong summoning qualifier?

 

The demon— it’s a demon, Harry’s ninety-nine percent sure— raises a sculpted eyebrow.

 

He definitely picked the wrong qualifier.

 

“Give me three good reasons not to turn you to a puff of vapor,” it says in a silky voice. He was expecting something gruffer. No demon has any business sounding so posh, Harry decides.

 

“Er,” he coughes. “Er... um.” He should probably answer it. He was just threatened with vaporization. Reasons... reasons... “Why three?”

 

Harry could slap himself.

 

“ _Two_ reasons why you should live,” the demon drawls. “Also, one of those cauldron cakes,” it adds as an afterthought.

 

Harry numbly offers it the plate he’d been holding. It was supposed to be for the puppy. If he had managed to summon one. The books had suggested steak, but he hadn’t had any on hand. He watches in abject horror as the demon steps easily out of the rune circle he’d drawn to keep it contained, setting what looks suspiciously like a Dolce and Gabbana shoe on his carpet. It picks up a cake with pianist’s fingers and takes a delicate bite. Harry stares. The demon waves at him. Explanation, right.

 

“Well, er,” he mumbles. He can’t exactly say ‘I wanted a puppy because Blaise dared me to try summoning and I can’t keep my stupid arse where it belongs but in reality I’m just lonely and a pet from hell sounds really cool but also fluffy and did I mention I’m lonely?’

 

“Why not?” It— he?— looks confused.

 

“Why not what?”

 

“Why can’t you just say that? About the puppy and all?” The demon frowns. “Certainly much simpler than whatever lie you would have come up with. A bit pathetic though, to be honest.”

 

“You could— you just—“

 

“Read your mind, yes. Bow before me, pathetic mortal.” The last part is accompanied by a dramatic sign.

 

“Alright. Ok. You can do that. Ok. So, assuming you aren’t going to, you know,” Harry makes a kind of ‘poof’ gesture with his empty hand. “Kill me and all. If you don’t mind, why are you here? Why didn’t I get the... um, the—“

 

“The fluffy puppy that breathes fire? You are utter bollocks at runes is why. Clearly you mixed the symbols for ‘dog’ and ‘dragon’, which I’ll admit are similar, but then you managed to mix ‘dragon’, in Celtic sigils, with Draco, _in_ _Latin_. Dragon indeed, but the entirely wrong language, and coincidentally my name.”

 

“Oh,” Harry says. “I’m Harry. Potter.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“You introduced yourself... I though...” Harry scratches his neck and shrugs. Draco looks surprised.

 

“Hi, Harry,” he says slowly. “You’re the first human to introduce yourself to me in a century. Daring, I must say.”

 

“Um, thanks?”

 

Draco deliberates for a minute. He stands a bit taller suddenly and nods with finality.

 

“You’re an idiot. I like it.”

 

“Ah, thanks again, I suppose?”

 

“Not a problem,” Draco waves at him before turning towards his kitchen. “Do you have more food?”

 

“What? I— food?”

 

“I’m starving, I haven’t had mortal food since the 1920s. What have they come up with while I was gone?”

 

Harry hasn’t gone shopping in a week (ergo the cauldron cakes), but he’s not about to refuse a demon who looks like he walked off the cover of Wizard’s International. Witch Weekly would probably be a step down. Merlin, his cheekbones, and those grey (fucking _grey_ , bend him over the couch right now) eyes.

 

No, this is definitely not what he should be thinking. He just summoned a demon. Said demon is now riffling through his cabinets and throwing a flirtatious wink at him like he just heard everything Harry thought.

 

Shit, he probably did.

 

He ends up making them both a sandwich from leftover tuna, and Draco steals his, so Harry sticks to crisps. At first the silence is rather awkward, but as Draco gradually asks a few questions and then a few questions more, Harry finds himself loosening up. There’s already a demon in his kitchen, he decides, the day can’t really get any weirder. He’s hesitant to say worse, because the day isn’t actually bad. Apart from the initial shock, it’s been alright. 

 

Draco turns out to be a surprisingly good conversationalist, if only because he doesn’t actually give a shit about Harry’s life or whatever comes out of his mouth, and just adds an obligatory hum or nod whenever Harry pauses. They chat about Harry’s apartment, which leads to talking about his job, and then his Auror partner, who sucks arse (literally and figuratively).

 

“And I’d already been considering quitting, you know?” He says through a mouthful of crisps. “I never really wanted to go into training, after the war and all. I mean, when I started it was mostly because of Ron, he’s so into it, and I can’t very well tell him to sod off, but Circe it gets tiring to pretend you’re liking it day after day. I like writing. I’ve been thinking of freelancing. Maybe opening a shop, I’d love that. Just don’t know where. I want something quiet, you know?”

 

“But you don’t want your social life to be quiet.”

 

“Exactly!” Harry slaps a hand down on the table. Draco pouts down at the tuna the motion has shaken from his sandwich. “I don’t want to be all over the place or anything, but it’s just so fucking boring! Ron and Hermione are all cozied up and Parkinson has Luna. I know Blaise doesn’t give a fuck, he’s got some prat from Kensington over every other week. I just want something or someone, so it doesn’t fell like I’m— like it’s—“

 

“Like you’re rotting away?”

 

“Yes,” Harry groans. He really has been rotting away here, hasn’t he?

 

“Hm,” Draco nods as he takes another bite. “I think I understand. You want to be able to take your own path, get into trouble but at least it’ll be your own decision. And you want someone to do it with because everyone wants someone.”

 

Harry frowns and considers it. Draco’s analysis is spot on, actually. He hadn’t been able to order his thoughts enough to get to the bottom of his discomfort, but being able to voice them— even to a demon— has cleared his head. Hearing his own wishes echoed back at him is both calming and relieving. He runs the last sentence through his head again just to let it sink in some more.

 

“When you say everyone wants someone,” Harry finally says. “Do you mean, everyone everyone? Does that work for demons too?”

 

“Do we get lonely?”

 

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

“Yes and no,” Draco pauses to swallow before continuing. “It depends, but we don’t usually enjoy company. We don’t pack bond to everything like you ridiculous humans. But we do sometimes mate, and I’ve heard it’s rather nice.”

 

Harry chokes.

 

“Not like that, you idiot,” Draco rolls his eyes. “Stop thinking such vile thoughts. Mate, as in your _alia_ _media_ , your _agápi_. Humans call it a soulmate, I’ve heard.”

 

“Oh.” Harry bites at the dry skin on his lip as he mulls it over. He doesn’t miss the way Draco’s eyes flick down. “What’s that like?”

 

“Well I wouldn’t really know, would I,” Draco drawls. “It involves biting and a wild night of marathon sex, and after that you stay together forever. Bit boring. The forever part, not the marathon sex.”

 

Harry chokes again.

 

“How are you so good at talking?” He wheezes. “Shouldn’t you be like ‘ye olde fair knight’ and whatnot? Where are you even getting shit like marathon sex?”

 

“I’m only a millennia or so, don’t be rude,” Draco looks genuinely offended. “And I’m getting it from your brain for your information. You’ve got a treasure trove of modern slang up there.”

 

“You told me earlier my brain was empty.”

 

“It is.”

 

“Wanker.”

 

“Mortal. I could crush you like a bug.”

 

Harry decides not to push his luck anymore.

 

“Well, I should probably get back,” Draco sighs and brushes crumbs off his hands. “As entertaining as this has been, you don’t actually have a genocide or an uprising for me to start.”

 

“You’re leaving?” Harry doesn’t know why he’s bothered by this. He’s spent an hour or two at most with Draco. He doesn’t even know what type of demon he is. He should probably be more bothered by the fact that he _is_ a demon.

 

“Harry Potter, you were the one who summoned me by accident,” Draco says. “I do have other things to be doing.”

 

“Oh,” Harry can’t meet his eyes. He ends up staring at his shoes and scuffing the heels against the floor.

 

“Thank you for the sandwiches.”

 

Harry looks up to see a pale hand stretched out towards him. He feels frozen, and his palms are sweating. Maybe something important is about to happen, maybe it isn’t. He doesn’t want to take the hand, but every part of him wants to grab it and never let go. This ethereal creature just barged into his life and it feels like Felix Felices mixed with Pepper Up. He’s warm and calm but he’s nervous and excited. For the first time in months, he doesn’t want anything. He doesn’t feel like he wants or needs to do something. He doesn’t have that nagging discomfort. Everything feels brilliant and alive and present. He’s here, sitting across from this demon who wants to touch him, to shake his hand.

 

Harry reaches out and takes it. Draco holds his fingers in less of a grip and more of a caress. They shake.

 

“It was something of a pleasure, Harry Potter.”

 

He disappears. No crack, no dust, no ash. He’s gone.

 

When Harry looks down, a smudge of light catches his eye. In liquid silver across his palm is a single Celtic rune, the one he’d been looking for.

 

Dog.

 

* * *

 

He’s certain he’ll never see Draco again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are the best best best!!! I’m also on tumblr, so come say hi :)
> 
> dracothecupcake.tumblr.com


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